


Wine and Cheap Perfume

by HawthorneWhisperer



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1920s, F/M, Light Dom/sub, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-17
Updated: 2017-05-18
Packaged: 2018-11-01 17:06:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10926246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HawthorneWhisperer/pseuds/HawthorneWhisperer
Summary: Gale sat back in the darkened booth, peering through the haze of smoke to the group of men across the speakeasy.  They were busy flirting with the blonde waitress,  her bare shoulder dipping down as she giggled.“Haymitch Abernathy is a dangerous man,” the gossips said.  According to anyone you asked, the Mockingjay’s crew was one of the most notorious gangs around, but Abernathy didn’t quite look like a stone cold killer, however.  In fact, he looked more like the town drunk that Gale remembered, leaning woozily back into his seat as the blonde left his table and headed for the bar.  Gale watched her chat with the bartender, a smile spreading across her face as Peeta filled her tray with drinks.  She returned to Haymitch’s table and Gale watched appreciatively the way her hips swayed under her black dress.  She looked familiar, but he figured he’d remember a girl like her from the Seam.  She was a knockout.(Or, a 1920s bootlegger AU.)





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Hawtsee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hawtsee/gifts).



Gale sat back in the darkened booth, peering through the haze of smoke to the group of men across the speakeasy.  They were busy flirting with the blonde waitress, her bare shoulder dipping down as she giggled.  

“Haymitch Abernathy is a dangerous man,” the gossips said.  According to anyone you asked, the Mockingjay’s crew was one of the most notorious gangs around, but Abernathy didn’t quite look like a stone cold killer, however.  In fact, he looked more like the town drunk that Gale remembered, leaning woozily back into his seat as the blonde left his table and headed for the bar.  Gale watched her chat with the bartender, a smile spreading across her face as Peeta filled her tray with drinks.  She returned to Haymitch’s table and Gale watched appreciatively the way her hips swayed under her black dress.  She looked familiar, but he figured he’d remember a girl like her from the Seam.  She was a knockout.

On stage, Katniss was singing with her eyes trained on the man behind the bar.  At the bar, Peeta cast a long look her way before returning to his customers.   _ Glad to see nothing changed while I was gone. _

The blonde waitress sauntered over to his table and gave him a sultry smile, but there was something cold and calculating behind her eyes.  “What can I get for you?” 

“Gin and tonic.” Gale tipped his head back, indicating for her to lean closer.  “And maybe a name?” he whispered into her ear.

She put her lips right next to his ear and breathed, “Madge,” and his head snapped up.  She was smirking and his brain worked double time to catch up, because  _ Madge _ was the name of the mayor’s daughter.  She had no business working in a place like this— hell, she had no business  _ working _ .  He remembered her from school, her pail lunches packed with roast chicken and thick sliced bread while he and Katniss made do with leftover soup and counted themselves lucky if they had a carrot between them.  But he looked her up and down again, sure enough, there was the girl with the strawberries glaring fit to kill at him.

He couldn’t remember being outright mean to her at the time, but judging from her reaction he probably hadn’t been all that kind to her either.  The chip on his shoulder hadn’t gone away with time, but he had gotten a little better at hiding it.  And if she was working in a joint like this, her life was likely different from what he remembered.  Madge gave him another hard look and walked back towards the bar.  A different waitress brought him his drink, and he pretended to watch Katniss sing while surveying the rest of the crowd.

During a pause between songs Katniss caught his eye and faltered.  He hadn’t seen her in five years, not since she turned him down and he left town for the Capitol.  He didn’t blame her for not wanting to marry him— they’d be miserable, just like she said— but it wasn’t an easy thing for him to hear at eighteen.  He gave her a half-smile that she returned, and her shoulders relaxed.  She nodded to the small, dark-skinned girl playing the piano and the band began playing again.

Gale waited for the song to finish, downed the rest of his drink, and walked out into the misty night.

* * *

 

Katniss was waiting outside his mother’s house the next morning.  Her coat covered the flimsy dress she had been wearing, but her hair was still lacquered and drew more than a few looks from passing miners.  “You could have told me you were back in town,” she started, her nostrils flaring.

“It’s good to see you too, Catnip,” he said and she fell into step beside him.

“I thought you said you’d rather die than work in the mines,” she pointed out.  Around them, men were pouring out of boarding houses like his to join the stream of humanity walking towards the edge of town.  

“Things change,” he said with a shrug. He’d been thrown out of the factory for unionizing and he didn’t have many other options.  But the mines would take a Hawthorne; his father had ensured that much. “When did you start singing?” he asked, blatantly changing the subject. There was a part of him that worried about her still, that wished she’d just married him and been done with it.  They’d be miserable, but she’d be taken care of.

Katniss crossed her arms around her middle.  “Last year.  Madge got me the job.  It’s not what you think— it pays well, and it’s not so bad,” she said fiercely.  An idea occurred to him but he decided not to broach it with her.  Singing in a speakeasy was one thing; joining the gang that ran it was another.  And he knew Katniss well enough to know she’d disapprove of him doing something that dangerous, but it would be a way out of the mines.

“How does your mother feel about that?” he asked.

“It doesn’t matter.  It puts food on the table.”

“And Prim?”

“If you cared this much about us, you could have written,” Katniss said, but she sounded like her usual self.  She had always been prickly, even at their best.  “Besides, if you’ve talked to Rory, you know how she is.”

Gale chuckled and they fell silent.  They reached the fork in the road between the Seam and the mines and drew to a stop.  “I’m glad you’re home,” Katniss said genuinely, and he waved goodbye.

“I’ll see you soon, Catnip.” he said.

* * *

 

Over the next three weeks, Gale became a regular at District Twelve.  He spent his days underground and his nights at the speakeasy, doing his best to ingratiate himself with the staff.  Working in the mines during the day was like a new form of torture, to be just yards from the shaft where his father died, to be doing a job he had sworn he would never do. The sooner he broke into the Mockingjays the sooner he could quit the mines, he figured, and the best way to do that was to learn the lay of the land.  He learned that Katniss’s piano player was named Rue, and her cousin Thresh worked as a barback with Peeta.  Peeta greeted him stiffly when Gale approached the bar, but at least he was warmer than Madge.

Madge was there every night, watching him with a smirk that made him shift uncomfortably.  There were a handful of other waitresses—another blonde, and a sly-looking redhead—but no matter where he sat, Madge took his order.  His order, and Haymitch’s.  None of the other waitresses even went near Haymitch’s table.  His companions were almost always the same; just Heavensbee and Finnick Odair, whom Gale suspected was more than just the handsome flirt he appeared to be.

One night, the club was emptier than usual.  Katniss and the band were off, replaced by Thresh on the piano.  Gale was debating how to approach Finnick when Madge appeared at his elbow, her blue eyes worried.  “Come with me,” she ordered, and he followed her more out of shock than anything else.  They made their way to the hallway near the entrance and she wheeled around, her black fringe flying around her hips.  “Prim’s here,” she whispered.

“What?”

“Outside.  With your brother.”

Gale swore under his breath and touched her elbow in thanks.  Out in the alley, Cato was working as bouncer, and Rory was begging him to let them in.  “I know there’s a password, I just...Gale?”

Prim looked away, her hair newly shorn into a bob, and Gale crossed his arms.  “What the hell are you doing here?” he asked.  Just that Sunday he had shown Gale the ring he wanted to give Prim once he had enough saved up for a house. He had no business messing around like...well, like his brother.

Rory looked a little ashamed, but not much.  “I could ask you the same thing,” he said, and Gale nodded hello to Prim.  She smiled shyly and her eyes darted back to Cato.  Cato was an unknown quantity, and Gale didn’t trust him, but he had apparently alerted Madge to the problem, for which Gale was equal parts puzzled and thankful.  “Go home, Rory,” Gale ordered, even though his brother was nowhere near young enough that Gale could get away with this.

“No,” his brother said flatly.

“You don’t know the password,” Gale pointed out, and Cato nodded.  “He’s not going to let you in without it, and I’m not going to give it to you.  So go home, or Cato will make you, and I don’t think you want Prim to see that.”  Truth be told, Gale would fight Cato himself before letting him lay a finger on Rory, despite the fact that the other man’s neck was as thick as Gale’s biceps.  It would get him banned from the club and sink any chance he had of leaving the mines, but he’d do it.

Fortunately, his brother backed down and put his arm around Prim to guide her away.  He sent several dirty looks Gale’s direction over his shoulder, but Gale turned and went back into the club.  Madge was at the bar loading up her tray when he found her.  “Thank you,” he said sincerely.

“I didn’t do it for you,” she snapped.  “Prim has no business in a place like this.”  She pushed past him but he followed her anyway.

“I’m sorry, you know,” he said once she’d dropped the drinks off at her next table.

“What?” she asked, exasperated.

“For whatever I did when we were kids.  I was probably a right piece of work,” he said, and wrapped his fingers around her wrist to tug her back to look at him.

Madge looked down at his hand and then back at him.  Something charged passed between them, and slowly, she nodded.  “I’ll see you around, Hawthorne,” she said, but this time, something like a smile played on her lips.

 

* * *

 

Flirting with Madge gave him something to look forward to.  His days were spent in darkness and his nights were spent lurking around the club, trying to coax a smile from Madge’s face.  It was hard going, especially at first.  That surprised Gale, as he’d had no troubles with gals like her in the Capitol, but she seemed to be resistant to his charms.  He would see her laughing at Odair and whispering something to Peeta that made his ears turn red, but when it came to Gale she was cold and aloof.  Katniss refused to explain why the mayor’s daughter was working in a speakeasy, and Gale wondered what had changed in her life.  Mayor Undersee had retired a few years back, but as far as Gale knew he still lived in the biggest mansion in town and Madge’s mother’s people were the sort of family that had buildings named after them.  There was no reason, as far as he could see, for a woman like Madge to need a job.  It was just one more thing for him to work out about her, he supposed, but no matter what angle he took— charming, flirtatious, gentlemanly— Madge remained just out of his reach.  

 

* * *

 

It was a hot, sticky day and Gale would rather be doing anything but standing out in the sun, but chores were chores, as Ma was fond of saying, so Gale found himself stripped down to his shirtsleeves with a bucket of whitewash.  Rory was on the other side of the house with Vick while Posy sat on the front porch with Ma, doing her lessons for Monday.  Posy was going to be the first Hawthorne woman to graduate from high school, and Gale had a mind to try and save up enough to put her through a year or two of college.  One of them ought to go, he figured, and it might as well be her.

He crouched over the bucket with his brush, and wiped the sweat from his forehead with his upper arm. More out of habit than anything else, Gale glanced over his shoulder when he heard footsteps on the dirt road behind him.  It was Madge in a crisp, proper dress the color of lemon cream.  She even had gloves on, like she was a lady who went to church instead of a woman who spent her nights in black fringe, serving moonshine to miners and flirting with every man who wasn’t him.

Seeing her dolled up like a society girl was strange enough, but it was the look in her eyes that stopped him dead.  Because he knew that look— he’d seen it on girls back in the Capitol as he walked them back towards the wall of his apartment, right before he kissed them.

Madge  _ wanted  _ him.

And that certainly changed things.  He gave her his best smile and watched her try to tear her eyes away from the way his shirt clung to his skin.  It was probably close to transparent at this point, and he found he liked having her look at him.  “Afternoon, Miss Undersee,” he said politely, like they were simply former schoolmates, like she was the town princess he remembered and not a waitress for bootleggers.

“Good afternoon,” she replied with her hands clasped politely in front of her.  But her blue eyes were dark, and if he wasn’t mistaken, she was enjoying this charade.  “Katniss and her mother had me over for luncheon,” she explained and Gale leaned his shoulder against one of the still-bare boards of the fence.

Madge’s gaze tracked the way he crossed his arms over his chest and he watched her teeth sink into her lower lip.  It was full and pink, and for the briefest of moments he imagined doing the same.  She’d probably groan, and he wondered if she’d bite him back.

Given the way she was looking at him, she probably would.

“Just helping Ma with some chores,” he said lightly.  “Maybe I’ll see you around town later,” he added, wondering if she would catch his meaning.

“Perhaps,” she said primly, and the way her lips curved into a smirk told him she did.

Vick came bounding out just then and the moment drifted away.  “Hey Madge,” he said brightly, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.  “How’s your mom?”

Madge’s face went a little pale.  “As well as can be expected,” she said, but there was a strain to her tone.  “I should be going,” she said, and swept away in a swirl of muslin and clenched fists.

Gale shoved his brother once she was out of earshot.  “What was that about?”

“Ma said to remind you to do both sides,” Vick replied.  “And Mrs. Undersee is sick.  Everyone knows that,” he shrugged.

Gale didn’t know that, but that came with having left town for so long.  “She dying?” he asked, picking the brush back up.

“Ma says probably.”

“And how does Ma know?”

“Mrs. Everdeen goes to help sometimes; Prim goes with,” Vick explained.  “But why do you care?”

“I don’t,” he said, and he honestly thought he meant it.

* * *

That night he watched her weave through the crowd, her lips blood red and her dress navy, just the right shade against her creamy skin.  As Madge leaned closer than was strictly necessary to take his order, he wrapped his fingers around her wrist.  “Any plans after this?”  He could feel her pulse fluttering under his fingers through the thin skin on her wrist.  Their interaction that morning hung heavy in the air, thick with promise.

Madge looked directly into his eyes, her pupils growing larger, the black almost swallowing the blue.  The corner of her mouth quirked up.  Her eyes flickered towards Haymitch’s table and then back to his.  “Meet me behind the club after closing,” she murmured and melted back in into the hubbub of the speakeasy.

Gale nursed his drink until the patrons finally started stumbling out, leaving in twos and threes from the hidden entrance in a side alley so as to not attract the attention of the police.   He leaned against the warehouse behind the club until he heard the click of her heels on the pavement.  Gale lifted his head and suddenly she was pressed against him, her scent surrounding him.  “Cold out here for May,” she purred, the smirk he’d come to know very well spreading across her face.

He smiled down at her and unbuttoned his suit jacket to wrap around her as her arms twined themselves around his waist.  “Well, we should do something about that, shouldn’t we?” he teased and dipped his head to kiss her full lips.  She tasted sweet, and the warmth radiating from her was at odds with the chill in the air.

He’d only planned to kiss her—maybe a little petting, but nothing more.  So when she reached down and palmed him through his trousers, he pulled back with a hiss.  “Madge!” he scolded, hating just how scandalized he sounded.

Madge raised a brow skeptically.  “I’m no innocent, you know.”  She pressed close to him again and his body began to react, much to his chagrin.  “And neither are you, I suspect.”  She tilted her chin up in an unmistakable invitation that against his better judgment, he took.  He captured her lips in another kiss, her tongue meeting his and melting whatever was left of his resolve. She walked him backwards, pushing him against the alley wall.  They were just out of sight of Cato, shielded by a stack of empty pallets.  Her fists curled into his shirt and Gale had half a mind to see if she wanted to escape to her rooms, but then he heard it— the unmistakable tattoo of boots against pavement.

_ Police _ .

Madge pulled away from him.  “Is that—”

“Go,” he hissed.  “I’ll try and buy everyone some time.”

Madge darted away and Gale straightened his shirt.  He walked briskly towards the end of the alley.  “Evening, officers!” he said as loudly as he could.  He didn’t risk a glance back, but he hoped Madge was long gone.  If Cato had any brains at all-- and he might not-- he’d hear Gale and take the warning. He didn’t recognize the chief— he assumed it would be Cray, the slimey and corrupt old bastard, but this man looked cold and hard.  “Or morning, rather,” Gale said pleasantly.  

“Step aside,” the chief said, his hand dropping casually to his nightstick. 

To his left, Darius looked worried.  “No need for you to get involved, Hawthorne,” he warned.

“Involved in what?  I’m just out for a walk,” Gale replied.

“Like hell you are,” the chief replied and before Gale realized what was happening, the nightstick  _ cracked _ across his face.  

Gale’s vision burst into stars and then went black for a heart-stopping second.  He stumbled but didn’t fall, his ears ringing.  “Stay out of it,” Darius hissed and pushed him over.  The police hurried past and he saw them kick open the door to the speakeasy.  Cato was nowhere in sight and Gale struggled back to his feet.  Katniss was still inside, he realized, and charged forward.  It was suicide, or near enough, but he wasn’t going to stand by and let his family get hurt.

He made it three steps when someone grabbed him.  “She’s safe,” Madge hissed and dragged Gale into the shadows.

“Where’d you come from?” he asked, because the alley had been empty just moments before, he’d swear on it.  They were still 15 feet from the door, now hanging askew on its hinges.  Darius was standing guard but looking the other direction, towards the street.

Madge tipped her head back and Gale saw a small door concealed behind the stack of pallets.  “Get out of here and put some ice on that,” she whispered.  Gale started to protest, but she shoved him gently on his way.  “There’s nothing you can do,” she said and darted back into the hidey-hole.  Gale heard the click of a lock and saw Darius look his way.  He gave the other man a nod, recognizing that it could have been worse for him, and walked quickly back to main street.

His nose was tender and probably broken, and he had a few molars that felt a little loose, but he had gotten into scrapes with the anti union thugs back at the steel mill that were far worse than this.  He’d have a hell of a shiner, but if it meant the people he cared about were safe, he’d pay the price gladly.

He was halfway home when he realized Madge was one of those people he wanted to protect.

* * *

Gale’s eye was nearly swollen shut the next morning.  He groaned and tenderly poked at his nose, flinching at the burst of pain that scattered across his face.  There was a knock at the bedroom door and Gale tugged on his undershirt to make himself decent before the scolding he was about to get from Hazelle about coming in so late.  

But it wasn’t his mother.  It was Madge, and she pushed in without a second glance at his disarray.  “I brought you some ice and asprin,” she announced.

Gale slid his suspenders into place on his shoulders.  “I have to—”

“Sit,” she ordered, and he sat down in a chair without even considering the fact that he rarely listened to anyone.  “I’ll have you patched up before anyone's back from church,” she said.  Gale accepted the ice— wrapped in a delicate hankie-- and put it on his swollen cheek.  “Did you ice it last night?” Madge asked.

“Didn’t want to disturb Ma,” Gale shrugged. “I’ve had worse.”

“I passed her on my way into the Seam,” Madge explained.  “She still doing washing?”  When Gale nodded she cast a shrewd eye around the small room that served as a bedroom for him, Rory, and Vick.  “If she ever needs more work send her my father’s way.”

Gale grunted, uncomfortable with the charity.

Madge clucked her tongue and handed him the pill.  “Take that,” she said, and poured him a glass of water from the jug on his counter.  Gale swallowed the pill and eyed her as she leaned over his face, her brow wrinkled in thought.

“Did everyone get out okay?”

She smiled softly.  “We did, thanks to you.  This is going to hurt, though.”

“What’s going to—  _ fuck _ ,” Gale screeched as Madge popped his nose back into place.  

“Would have hurt less if we’d done it last night,” she said, squinting at a cut on his forehead and pouring iodine onto yet another hankie.  “But I couldn’t get out until this morning.  Thread and his boys were knocking around in the club until just about an hour ago, and then I had to wait until your family cleared out.”

Which meant she’d likely gone home to collect her things and then come straight here.  If it hadn’t hurt to do so, Gale probably would have smiled.  She dabbed at his cut and he hissed, leading to her clucking her tongue in mock sympathy once more.  “There,” she said, standing back.  

“You’re in with him, aren’t you?” Gale asked.

“With who?”

“The Mockingjay.”  Madge raised an eyebrow in question.  “Haymitch.  You’re in with him, right?  You don’t just work at the club?”

“I know him,” she said warily.

“I want a job,” he said, blunt and to the point.  He’d saved their asses last night, and the thought of working in the mines was going to choke him.  His mother would kill him for bootlegging, but it’d pay better than mining.  The risk was worth it.

“At the club?”

“With him.  I’m good in a fight and I learned how to drive a car when I was in the Capitol.  I know the area better than anyone, and I know most of the people too.  I’d be an asset.”

Madge tapped her foot.  “I suppose I could pass that along,” she said.  “It’s dangerous, though.  You willing to risk it?”

“To get out of the mines?  I’ll do anything,” he said, and something flashed across her face.  It was gone before he could decipher it, and Madge packed up her bottle of iodine.  

“Then I’ll pass it along but no promises,” she said.  “You should go.”  She walked to his door and pure her hand on the knob.  “And Gale?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.”

 

* * *

 

It always took Gale’s eyes awhile to adjust after leaving the mines.  He was living in eternal night down there, and when he’d moved back home it was the middle of of winter.  He went to work in the dark and left it long after the sun had set, but now that spring was arriving he at least got some slivers of daylight to enjoy.  But still his eyes watered in the weak twilight when he left the tunnel, and he squinted for most of the walk home.

That was probably why he didn’t see them coming.  He barely had any warning, just the sound of footsteps and then a hood blotted out his vision.  Strong arms wrenched his arms behind his back and he twisted, lashing out with his knees and feet in vain.  Handcuffs clicked on and he redoubled his efforts, trying to throw his weight enough to break free.  Someone bundled him forward and he heard a car door open.  Gale planted his feet and waited for his captor to bowl into him and then snapped his head back.  His skull connected with a nose with a satisfying  _ crack  _ and he heard the man swear.  The voice sounded familiar, and when he muttered  _ just get in the damn car  _ Gale recognized him.

_ Cato _ .

Gale relaxed and stopped fighting.  Cato shoved him headfirst into the car, probably more roughly than strictly necessary, and slammed the door.  Gale lay across the seat and felt the car rumble to life.  “What’s with the hood?” another voice asked.   _ Peeta _ , he was fairly sure.  “Boss said just to ask him to come with us.”

“More fun this way,” Cato grunted.  "Don't bother letting him go or we'll be late and you know how boss is about that."  The car bumped along the rutted roads and Gale tried to keep track of the turns, but there wasn’t much point.  He knew the roads well enough but not at this pace and he couldn’t judge the distance at these speeds.  Besides, he wasn't in any real danger.

Finally the car rolled to a stop and Cato pulled him out, forcing him to his knees in the cold mud.  Peeta pulled off his hood with an apologetic nod. They were by the edge of the lake, water slapping quietly at the reeds.  Already darkness had fallen and only the light of the headlights remained to illuminate the deserted meadow.

“Sorry about...that,” Peeta said, and Gale cast him a skeptical look.

“Sorry enough to take the handcuffs off?”

Peeta looked at Cato.  “Boss doesn’t meet new people often,” Peeta said, which wasn’t an answer.  “Gotta be careful,” he finished, and Gale supposed that was.

“I’ve met Haymitch,” Gale offered.  “I’ve met him and I’ve known Katniss my whole life.  She can vouch for me.”

Peeta and Cato looked at each other again.  “Who said Haymitch—” Cato started but Peeta cut him off.

“Boss likes to meet people on their own first.  Make sure they’re serious.  And speaking of…”  Peeta trailed off as another car left the road and trundled through the grass.  It pulled to a stop and Gale flinched away from the headlights burning straight into his eyes.  The engine cut out and doors slammed shut.  Gale could just make out a man’s legs with spitshined shoes.  

His brow furrowed at that.  Haymitch wasn’t much for dressing sharp; usually he looked like a drunk on a bench and dressed like one.  “Jesus, Cato, what the hell is this?” the man said, and Gale realized it was Odair.  

“Protecting the boss,” Cato grunted.

“The boss told you he was no threat.”  Gale’s head snapped up, not believing his ears.  He knew that voice, but it couldn’t be.

Not  _ her. _

A woman’s legs emerged from behind the car, long and shapely.  She was wearing heels, like she always did, and a knee length skirt.  She walked towards him, illuminated from behind like an angel with a halo, her blonde hair alight.  

 

  
Madge was the mockingjay.


	2. Two

“Cuffs, Cato,” Madge snapped, and her lackey hastened to unlock Gale’s wrists.  She helped him up, her fingers caressing his skin gently.  “I’m sorry about that.  He’s strong but stupid.”

Gale snorted.  “So the gang is yours?” he asked, and she signaled to the rest of the men to fall back.  “Haymitch is what, a decoy?”

“Something like that,” she said with a smirk.  

“How does the mayor’s daughter end up a criminal mastermind?”

Madge shrugged.  “It wasn’t on purpose; at least not at first.  Haymitch was a small time bootlegger and he wanted to open the club, and I was...looking for a way out of a life I didn’t want.  And pretty quickly we discovered I had a head for business, so Haymitch became a figurehead.”

“Business? You mean crime,” Gale countered.

“Do you want a job or not?” she volleyed back, but her eyes were sparkling.

“Do I have one?”

“That depends.  How hard did you fight to get away from Cato?”

“Not hard at all,” he grinned.

“Good.  If you had, I’d have to have him kill you, because that would have been pathetic,” she teased.

“So I’m in?”

“You’re in.”

* * *

 

Gale hefted the barrel out of the trunk and hauled it down the hidden entrance.  He’d been working for the gang for a week and the money was good, but not good enough for him to quit at the mines, not yet.  And it wasn’t exactly a long term career plan, working as a bootlegger, but maybe if he saved up enough money they could move somewhere; California, maybe.  Start over.  They could buy a farm, he reasoned, and Ma and the kids could come too.  Anything that wasn’t underground.

Gale stopped with a barrel on his shoulder and realized what he’d just thought—  _ they _ could buy a farm.  He hadn’t been thinking of his family— he’d been thinking of her.  Somehow, after just a few kisses from Madge, he’d fallen in deep.  He wondered if she would even consider leaving and then shook his head, ruling it out.  He was getting ahead of himself.

But just then the woman herself walked it to the storage room and closed the door behind her.  “Hey boss,” he teased, and her eyes glinted.

“You like working for me?” she asked, and he heard the lock click into place.

“There are perks,” he said.  They hadn’t touched since the morning after the raid and his fingers itched to feel her skin but he wasn’t sure if it was allowed.  

Madge tipped her head to the side and her gaze darkened.  “You haven’t been taking advantage of them,” she said, and Gale leaned back against the shelves with his arms crossed.  

“Wasn’t sure what was allowed,” he replied with a smirk.

Madge paced towards him. “Then it’s a good thing I make the rules,” she purred, and fisted her hands in his shirtfront.  She yanked him towards her and captured his mouth in a bruising kiss.

Gale’s hands came up to cup her face, the air evaporating from his lungs.  This was something deeper than lust, something even more primal, and he remembered what it felt like to be on his knees in front of her.

He’d liked that, and more than he’d realized at the time.  But he kept returning to that moment, turning it over in his mind.  Madge, towering above him with a blazing look in her eyes, powerful and benevolent.  She ground her hips against him and grinned, his lower lip caught between her teeth.  “Like something?”

“Damn right I do,” Gale swore and spun them around so she was the one pinned to the shelves.  She gasped and her eyes lit up, her nails digging into his shoulders.  She gasped again when his hand found the hem of her dress.  He skimmed his hand up her thighs, bunching the fabric into his palm, and stopped at the top of her stockings.  He teased the edge with his thumb, his head pulled back just far enough to watch her reaction.  He trailed a finger up the smooth, downy skin of her inner thigh and groaned when he discovered she wasn’t wearing her drawers.  He brushed his knuckle through the damp patch of hair between her legs.  Her lips were parted with want and he wondered if she was as close to losing control as he was.

“You going to do something about that or just tease me all day?” she snapped, and Gale sank to his knees so quickly her eyes widened in surprise.  But then she wiped her face clear and it was replaced by a haughty look that did nothing to stop the way blood was rushing to his groin.

He contemplated teasing her just for her remark but he wasn’t sure how long they’d have.  She might be the boss, but there were half a dozen others arriving for work at any minute.  So instead Gale shoved her dress up around her hips and buried his face between her legs.

She tasted sweet and tangy, but the best part was the way a sharp cry escaped her lips when his tongue found her entrance.  She stuffed her fist in her mouth to stifle the rest and draped her leg over his shoulder, her other hand curling into his hair.  She tugged him closer and closer until there was nothing in the world left but her taste, her folds beneath his tongue and her thighs around his ears.  It made breathing difficult and he found he liked that, reveling as her taste washed over his tongue.

She came quickly— too quickly, in his opinion, as he wanted to stay here, on his knees, forever— and sharply, pulsing and shuddering against his tongue.  She hauled him up, his hair pulling from his scalp, and kissed him messily, licking her own arousal from his jaw with such ferocity he thought he might cease breathing.

“Boss?”

Madge swore and pushed Gale away.  She wiped her face with the back of her hand, shaking her dress back down over her hips.  “Just a second!”  she called.  She hadn’t yet put on her lipstick for the evening but her hair was a little mussed and couldn’t be helped.  

She opened the door to find Peeta with a smirk on his face.  He made sure there were barrels in front of him while willing his erection away.   “Katniss will be late tonight, but Rue said she can sing if Thresh takes piano for her,” he said.  Gale tried to look nonchalant but they’d been rumbled.

“That’s quite all right,” Madge replied, somehow at her ease.  “Anything else?”

“You said you wanted to see the books before we opened,” Peeta reminded her.  

“Right.”  Madge sent the briefest of glances his way and then followed Peeta out of the storage room, leaving Gale to deal with his problem alone.

 

* * *

Gale spent the night working the door.  He’d replaced Cato on account of being both smarter and less antagonistic to customers, although he did have to swallow his annoyance when patrons from the wealthier side of town sneered at him.  Madge gave him a 10% cut off the door, so he tucked away his hatred of the smooth, oily types gliding past him and thought about an orange farm in the California sun.

He let people out in small groups, checking the ends of the alley for police, but Madge had sent Haymitch to Thread’s boss with a big stack of bills and that seemed to have done the trick.  He was ready to head inside and help finish closing when Madge emerged.  “We have some unfinished business,” she said, biting her lower lip.

“Do we, now?” he replied, and then she was kissing him.

“My place is just around the corner,” she gasped between kisses, and Gale could only nod.

He shrugged out of his coat and draped it over her shoulders as they hurried through the early dawn light to Madge’s surprisingly shabby apartment.  “You’d think a gangster would live somewhere nicer than this,” he teased, but Madge grabbed his shirt in her hands and pulled him quickly towards the bed, their lips still fused together.  She kicked her shoes off and shrugged out of his coat, pushing him down on the bed with alarming ferocity.  Madge climbed on top of him and began unbuttoning his shirt as his hands came to rest on the smooth skin of her thighs, gliding under the hem of her scandalously short dress. 

Madge kissed almost viciously, teeth nipping at his lips and dragging along the scruff of his jaw, her nails digging into his shoulders.  She shoved his shirt off his shoulders and tugged impatiently at his undershirt, sitting back on her heels as he sat up to pull it off.  Then her lips were on him again, roaming his body hungrily.  Gale carded his hands through her hair and tilted her head back for a kiss, his own lips moving from hers to her jaw and down her throat.

Gale grabbed the hem of her dress and pulled it up and over her head, eager to feel her skin against his chest.  She’d put drawers on between their tryst in the storage room and now, he noted, and then realized what that meant.  S _ he’d taken them off to come find him _ .  He went a little weak in the knees at the thought, wanting her in so many ways. She wore lacy brassiere with two narrow, satiny straps, and Gale marveled at how much women’s undergarments had changed since his first hesitant fumblings out by the slag heap.  But then she stepped back and all his musings on her poverty were driven from his head, because all he saw was acres of creamy, pink-tinged skin.  Her breasts were full and round, the nipples hard beneath the satin, but when he went to touch her she drew back.  “Wait,” she whispered, her voice husky with want.  “I want...to try something.”

“Okay,” he said, and waited.

“I want to be...in control.”

“In control,” he echoed, puzzled.

“You only touch me when and where I tell you,” she said, and Gale brought his eyes from her breasts to her face.  She didn’t look hesitant; just determined.

“And you?”

“I touch you however I want,” she said and licked her lips.  “You’d be at my mercy.  I wouldn’t hurt you, I just want...control.”

_ At my mercy _ .  The words rang in his skull and and he had to grip the edge of his mattress to ground himself.  It had never occurred to him before, but he wanted it; he knew that much.  “I’d like that,” he said with a certainty that surprised him.  It was what he’d been craving in the storage room.  It was what he wanted, put into words-- freeing, somehow, despite what it sounded like.

Madge stepped between his knees and ran her finger along his jaw.  He reached out to touch her waist but she grabbed his wrists tightly.  “Not until I say so,” she purred.  Gale swallowed hard and nodded. 

“Stand,” she ordered authoritatively.  Gale obeyed and she motioned to his trousers.  “Take those off.”  She walked back and forth while he hurriedly shed his shoes and stepped out of his pants.  “Those too,” she added, and he skinned down his underclothes.  He was naked and harder than he had ever been, and she had barely touched him.

“Sit,” she said, and Gal perched on the edge of the bed once again.  This time when she fit herself between his knees he kept his hands at his sides.  She traced his jaw again and then fit her palm around his cheek.  Her thumb pressed his lower lip, urging his jaw open, and he fought the urge to nip at it.  Slowly— too slowly, but that was probably the point— Madge brought her mouth down to his.  He let her set the terms and waited until her tongue brushed along his to reciprocate, but it was harder than he thought it would be to keep from cupping her face in his hands.

Madge knelt astride him, her backside resting on his thighs, and curled her fingers into his hair as she kissed him.  Her nails scraped his scalp and he whined, making smirk play at the corners of her lips.  She rose up on her knees and guided his head down, first to her neck and then to just above her breasts.  He dragged his lips across her skin, tasting her, and when her nails dug into his skin deeper he stopped and redoubled his efforts, sucking the smooth, unblemished skin between his teeth.

The strain of keeping his hands at his sides was nearly killing him, so when she gasped “Touch me, please,” into his ear he heaved a sigh of relief.  He palmed her breasts through the silky fabric, licked at her nipple though it, ran his teeth delicately against the tip.  He nosed the brassiere down to bare her breast to him more fully and sucked hard, making Madge’s head fall down next to his with a desperate, needy gasp.

But then suddenly she wrenched herself away and stood.  He whined, wanting to follow her but knowing the rules, and grabbed at the mattress once again.  While he watched her with need singing in his veins she unhooked the brassiere and let it fall to the side.  Next went her drawers, falling to the floor with a sigh of skin and lace.

She paced toward him, her head held high.  “Lay back,” she said, and he pushed himself across the white coverlet to lay his head on her pillow.  Madge crawled over him, predatory,  and grabbed his wrists.  She pinned them next to his head and stopped.  “Is that okay?” she asked, and he saw doubt flicker in her eyes.

“Yes,” he rasped, because with every second, this felt more and more right.  Turning over control to her felt natural, like something he’d always wanted.  She kissed him and he surged up to meet her, their teeth clicking together.  Madge cupped his face in her hands and rutted down on his thigh.  

She was hot and wet and slick, and she breathed into his mouth.  “Touch me,” she ordered, Gale groaned with relief and his fingers found her folds just as her hand found his cock.  She worked him and he worked her, breathing in sync, and he tried to urge her up so he could ease himself inside of her.

But Madge reared back.  She dropped his cock and grabbed his hands, pinning them back down.  “Did I give you permission for that?”

Her eyes were cold and somehow that just made him harder.  “No,” he admitted, and Madge knotted her fingers into his hair and yanked his head back.  It didn’t hurt, not quite, but it made him growl, and when she kissed him like that it was the sweetest relief.

“Me first, then you,” Madge explained, and she inched up his body until her knees were next to his ears.

Gale had never done it like this.  She was all he could see, dusky pink folds with a wet sheen and a sharp, sweet scent, and a thatch of golden curls around it all.  He’d been able to smell traces of her on his skin all night but it still wasn’t enough.  Her breasts swayed above him and she rested her forearms on the iron rails, dropping her head down to look at him.  He used his thumbs to part her folds and craned his head up to touch his tongue to the bud at the apex of her thighs.  Madge whined and that sound spurred him on, lashing his tongue there and then dragging it down to her entrance.  He swirled it inside and Madge’s legs threatened to give way, so he wrapped his fingers around her hips to hold her up.  It was hard to breathe like this but he didn’t want to stop, because she’d told him to do this and by god, all he wanted to do was serve her. 

Gale alternated between teasing her with soft, feathered licks and plunging his tongue deep into her walls, and each time he moved from one to the other she would keen louder.  Her legs were shaking around his ears and he pressed his tongue tightly to that bundle of nerves until she was coming apart, shuddering and moaning.  He eased her through it and Madge slowly worked her way back down.  She laid across his chest and kissed him, licking her own arousal from his lips once more.  “You’ve been so good,” she cooed, and pride bubbled in his chest.  Letting her take charge had been hard but rewarding, and he felt relieved even though his cock was still aching.  She reached down and took him in her hand again, her fingers just a shade too gentle for him, and Madge smirked against his lips.  

She sat up and lowered herself down on him in one swift movement, her walls hot and wet and slick, and she clasped their hands together to brace herself. “Fuck me,” she said, with just a slight quaver in her voice, and so he did.  Gale held her hips down and brought his up to meet hers, over and over.  Her hands squeezed his and she leaned down, Gale surging up to kiss her.  She dropped his hands and he wrapped his arm around her lower back, anchoring her close to him.  Their chests pressed together and her nipples were hard between them, and Gale nipped at her shoulder and collarbone as she draped her arms around his neck.

“I’m close,” he managed to whisper, and Madge snapped her hips three more times before she hopped off and put her hand to him again, his cock sticky with her arousal.  

“Let me see you,” Madge purred in his ear, and it was like he had been waiting for her to give him permission.  The heat that had been building inside of him for what felt like hours came unspooled all at once and he spilled himself into her palm.   She kept stroking him as he swelled and released, and with a load groan he flopped back against the bed.

His nerves were buzzing and he felt odd— floaty and relaxed and drunk, even though it had been hours since he had touched a drop.  Madge dug a handkerchief from her nightstand and cleaned him off before stretching out beside him.  She propped her cheek on her hand and trailed her fingers down his chest, tripping over his ribcage.  “How— how was that?” she asked, and she looked vulnerable, unsure.

“Unbelievable,” he said with a giddy smile.  “That was...it’s never been like that for me.”

Madge dipped her head and kissed his shoulder.  “Me either,” she said, and he lifted his head in surprise.

“Really? You seemed so...confident,” he said, and took her hand and kissed her fingertips.  

“I trusted you,” she said quietly, and snuggled closer.  Gale’s mind was already brimming with possibilities, wondering if maybe she would tie him down to make his obedience easier, but he felt that this moment was a little too precarious to bring it up quite yet.  They laid together, silence thick in the air, and Gale felt a stirring of doubt.

Maybe he was reading this wrong.  Maybe he was a release for her, a chance to slum it while she played gangster queen before returning to her old life.  He wanted to ask her what this all meant, wanted to make sure he wasn’t being a fool, but her breathing was slowing on his chest, evening out as she fell asleep.

He decided it could wait.

  
  


* * *

 

They were woken by frantic hammering on the door.  Madge bolted from the circle of his arms and threw on a black silk dressing gown, patterned with brightly colored tropical flowers.  “Stay there,” she hissed, and opened the door a crack.

“It’s your mother, miss,” said the voice on the other side of the door.

“I don’t—”

“I know you said not to bother you, but this— she isn’t going to make it much longer.  If you’ve anything to say to her…”

“I understand.  Tell my father I’ll be right there.  Thank you, Chaff,” Madge said, and closed the door.  

Gale sat up and watched Madge’s face shift from grief to a carefully controlled mask.  “Go,” he said, even though part of him wanted to offer to go with her.  But she was already shutting him out, he could tell. 

Madge sat down on the edge of the bed and clasped her hands in her lap.  “I haven’t been home in years,” she admitted.  “I had a fight and I left.  I meet my father for lunch on his birthday, but I haven’t even spoken to her since the day I moved out.  What I am-- what I do...she'd never understand.”

“What happened?” he asked.  

“I didn’t want to live the life they wanted for me.  They wanted me to have their life and I didn’t want it.” she said with an awkward smile.  “I’m sure that sounds petty to you.”

Gale had to swallow hard because she was right— it sounded petty and silly.  He’d hated her mansion growing up because it stood for everything he and his siblings would never have; dozens of rooms going empty for a family of three while he and his siblings shared a shack without running water and just a curtain dividing the only bedroom into two for privacy.  He couldn’t imagine giving up a life like hers just because of a nebulous desire for freedom, and he especially couldn’t imagine turning his back on his family to do so.  “You did what you thought was right,” he said finally, and he knew Madge could see through him.  She rose and slipped on the dress she’d worn to lunch with the Everdeens.

Almost instantly, she changed.  She wasn’t the woman from the club, the woman who’d lounged in his arms just moments ago.  She wasn’t a gangster, cunning and quick and dangerous; she was prim and proper, the daughter of a mayor in every sense of the word.  Before he’d enjoyed the contrast but now, seeing the transformation, he realized this could all be a mask.  And what’s more, she could give it up at a moment’s notice and return to her old life, just as she was doing now.

Perhaps it wasn’t fair to think that of her with her mother on her deathbed but once the thought wormed its way into his mind, Gale couldn’t shake it.  He dressed alongside her and they left her apartment by each other’s side, but a wall of glass had come between them.  Madge kept her arms wrapped around her middle and he tried in vain to think of something to say, but all he could think was  _ at least you get to say goodbye. _

He hadn’t gotten that with his father, after all.  He walked with her towards the nicer part of town, both of them silent as the grave, until they came to the corner that would lead to her old home.  Madge drew to a stop.  “I can make it from here,” she said in a quiet voice he barely recognized.

_ Of course she wouldn’t want to be seen with me _ , he thought.   _ It would raise questions she doesn’t want to answer _ .  Gale nodded, returned her tight smile, and turned on his heel.  

 

* * *

 

Mrs. Undersee died that night.  He learned as much from his mother the next day while he fixed the pump in the front yard.  “Madge came home to make up with her before she passed, dear girl,” Hazelle clucked.  Gale grunted and his mother cast him a sidelong look but then she shifted to chatting blithely about the church’s plans for the picnic in the coming weeks.

Madge didn’t return to the club for nearly a week.  Katniss told him she was living in her father’s house again, helping him set things to rights.  “Madge never got along with her mother,” she explained as she lowered her microphone to the right height.  “Mrs. Undersee wanted her to be a society girl, but that never fit her.”  Gale snorted and Katniss cut her eyes at him.  “What’s going on with you two?”

“Nothing,” he lied, and went to the back to check the inventory even though Peeta had already done it half an hour ago.  

Haymitch was taking lead while Madge dealt with her family and the club and gang chugged along smoothly enough in her absence.   But the longer she stayed away, the more plagued by doubts he became.  No one else seemed to worry that she was giving it up, but with each day that passed he became more certain she’d leave them all behind.  Life in her world— her real world, the one she belonged to— was easier than theirs.  And make no mistake, he didn’t fit in her world.  He fit here, with the rest of the gang.  All of them had grown up scraping by, all of them knew what it was like to go to bed and wonder if you’d eat the next day.    It was best that Madge leave, even if the gang’s revenue would sink without her keen eye for business deals and winning ways with their suppliers.  Even the most hardened bootleggers would melt under her charm, always thinking she was just a piece of arm candy.  They never saw the steel beneath, and never realized she was the one calling the shots.

With gut wrenching certainty, Gale realized it was no different with him.

 

* * *

 

The breeze set his shirts fluttering.  They weren’t white anymore, more a dingy grey thanks to the ever present coal soot on his face and hair.  He diligently washed and hung them to dry every Sunday in the backyard.  Ma and the kids were at the church picnic and Rory was off with Prim.  He reveled in the silence and the soft sounds of the woods from beyond the fence.  He picked up another shirt and pinned it to the line while the bedsheet behind him billowed against his legs before bending to grab the next.  “Gale?”  Slowly he straightened and Madge emerged from behind the sheet.  “Katniss said I could probably find you here.”

He tore his gaze away from her and returned to his task.  “Katniss was right,” he grunted.  A thick silence fell, and his stomach twisted.  “Sorry about your mom,” he added.  He still couldn’t look at her but his basket was rapidly dwindling.

“Thank you.  I’m sorry for disappearing, but my father needed me.”  He grunted in assent.

Madge clucked her tongue.  “What’s wrong?” she asked, her tone sharp.

“Nothing,” he lied.

“I’m not an idiot,” she snapped.  “What is it?”

Gale closed his eyes and turned to face her.  “We’re— there’s no point,” he sighed.

Madge raised her chin defiantly.  “And why not?”

“Because sooner or later, you’ll leave,” he admitted, and it felt like a betrayal to even think that, but it was true.  “Your life— it’s what you’re meant for.  Not this; not the club.  Not the gang.  Not...not me.”

“And you know this how?” she asked archly.

“I’ve known you my whole life,” he pointed out.

“Have you?”

Against his better judgment he chuckled.  “Am I imagining our childhood?”

Madge ran her tongue over her teeth.  “I meant, do you know me?  Or do you think you do?”

_ I’ve fucked you  _ was on the tip of his tongue but her eyes were flashing dangerously and he decided against it.  “I know people like you,” he said instead, but the moment it was out of his mouth he regretted it.

But to his surprised, she just laughed.  “No, you don’t.  You don’t even know me very well, if you think I’d leave the gang to spend my time trussed up like a Christmas turkey listening to my father’s friends drone on about politics.”

“I—”

She held up a hand and barreled on.  “The gang is my family; my home.  And you and I— I don’t know what we are yet, but if you think I’m just a spoiled rich girl…”

“I don’t,” he blurted.  “I just— why would you leave that behind?”  He worked day and night to fight for a better life for Ma and the kids, so they could have even one tenth the luxury she was walking away from.  

“Because none of that mattered to me,” Madge said flatly.  “In the Capitol, you threw away a good paying job to fight for your rights, didn’t you?”

“Unionizing and bootlegging aren’t exactly comparable,” he said drily and her lips twitched up.

“I suppose not,” she replied.  “But still— you didn’t like your life, so you tried to change it.  Is it so difficult to imagine I’d do the same?”

Gale sighed and looked away, his anger and fear leaking away.  Madge stepped closer to him and the breeze blew the white sheet against her side, molding against her curves.  “I’m not about to say that I love you,” she said.  “But I think— I think we could be something.  Something special.”

“What if I screw it up?” he said, surprised by his own honesty.  “I’m not...very nice.”

Madge chuckled and drew even closer, her hand reaching out to take his.  “No, you aren’t.  But neither am I.  What do you say?”

Gale couldn’t find the words so instead he drew her against him roughly.  Madge grinned and looked up at him through her eyelashes and he gave himself three heartbeats to look her in the eye before he bent down and pressed his lips to hers.

Whatever the future might hold, he was in.

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They don't use condoms because I was too lazy to research contraceptives in the US in the 1920s.
> 
> But use a goddamn condom, kids.

**Author's Note:**

> Title is, as always, from Journey.
> 
> xoxo and thanks for your patience, hawtsee. Hope you like it.


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